


Battle Lessons

by littlewitch34



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Athelstan needs fighting lessons, Episode Tag, Episode: s01e09 All Change, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Lagertha Is Badass, Non-Graphic Violence, Post Finale, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-26
Updated: 2013-07-26
Packaged: 2017-12-21 10:43:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/899384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlewitch34/pseuds/littlewitch34
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Now that Athelstan is her only companion, Lagertha thinks it's time for him to learn to fight. Set after episode 9: All Changes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Battle Lessons

“Do you know how to fight, priest?”

 

The words catch him off guard. Athelstan raises his head to look at Lagertha.

 

“Answer me,” she repeats. She's still pale and Athelstan could never dream of calling her weak, but losing a child-- two children-- like she has could break someone's spirit entirely. There is something in Lagertha's eyes, though, a spark of defiance, of light, and something just on the edge of danger. Athelstan can't describe the feeling that runs through him at the sight.

 

“I... can try,” Athelstan said. “I can--”

  
  
Lagertha interrupts him. “Can you learn?”

 

“I can, lady,” Athenstan promises her. “If there is one willing to teach.”

 

“I will,” Lagertha vows. “You need to know.”

 

Her words chill Athelstan. “I need to--”

 

“You need to know,” she repeats. “Because there is no one here but you and I now. And I can defend myself. And I can defend you. I need to know that you can do the same.”

 

“Teach me,” Athelstan asks. Based upon the near-feral grin spreading over Lagertha's face, he's said the right words.

 

* * *

 

In the morning, Lagertha wakes him early, and her lessons begin straight away. Athelstan stumbles over his footing sometimes, but he's not the worst warrior-in-training. He can wield an ax, a club, and though they've not practiced it yet, Lagertha is sure he'll handle a sword well. They work through the day and into the night, until it's too dark to see, even with the moon to light their way.

 

“That was good,” Lagertha says quietly. Athelstan is so hungry that he barely hears her, too focused on wolfing down the stew Lagertha prepared for dinner. Lagertha smiles and reaches to smooth down his hair as if he's her child.

 

The next day is a lesson in archery. The days run into each other, with all the lessons and practice and sparring. Athelstan's muscles ache when he finally stops at night, but the ache is a good one, that makes him feel powerful. He suspects that this is why Lagertha is pushing him so hard.

* * *

 

Days turn into weeks with Bjorn and Ragnar missing from their home. Lagertha is glad for Athelstan's company; she would never speak it aloud, but she did not know how she could have handled herself and the loneliness if she'd been completely abandoned when Gyda died. Having Athelstan by her side has likely kept Lagertha alive.

 

Sitting over their lunch, Lagertha is explaining to Athelstan the mechanics of a bow and arrow, how to aim and get just the right amount of force to send the arrow exactly where it's meant to go. Midsentence, Lagertha falls silent, and Athelstan tenses. Lagertha's expression makes Athelstan's blood chill, and when Lagertha presses her finger to her lips, he only nods.

 

Lagertha slowly stands up and reaches for an ax. She silently lifts it into her arms and moves in front of Athelstan. He picks up a long knife, holding it with a little uncertainty. They'd only practiced with knives once or twice in their lessons, and Athelstan can slash and stab (he thinks; he's never had to do it to a real person before) but he's still unsure.

 

The door to the house swings open and a pair of men walk inside, smirks on their bearded faces.

 

“Look. They've prepared,” one cracks to the other.

 

“Thought you deserved a welcome,” Lagertha says, her voice sharp. It makes Athelstan realize why she was teaching him to fight.

 

“Not the welcome we were looking for, woman.” The man is looking over Lagertha hungrily, like she's a tender piece of meat. Athelstan bristles, but that bristling turns into sheer horror when he realizes the second man is looking at _him_ in the same manner.

 

Lagertha's jaw clenches when she spots the man eyeing Athelstan. “I offer you food, if you are hungry. Ale for thirst. But that is _all_ I offer.”

 

This doesn't seem to satisfy anyone, and Athelstan's hands begin to tremble.

 

“This offering does not please us,” the man growled. “And so we shall take what we wish.”

 

Lagertha smiles her feral smile, all sharp teeth, and it scares Athelstan. He knows. These men should be afraid, too. She swings her ax and the man steps backward to avoid being hit. Athelstan slashes out at the man by Lagertha with his blade and loses it. Then, things move too fast for Athelstan to see it all. It's a blur, loud clanging and grunting, until he's backed into a corner with a knife at his throat.

 

“Step back from him,” Lagertha snarls.

“I have no use for you, wench.” The man's free hand strokes over Athelstan's cheek, and trails down his chest. The hand presses in just above the waistband of Athelstan's britches, and Athelstan sucks in a shaky gasp. “Such a pretty piece of flesh this one is,” the man purrs. “Ragnar Lothbrok keeps him locked away for his own use...” The man's free hand tangles in Athelstan's hair and he yanks on Athelstan's curls. “When he should be stripped, lashed to a rock, and bent over for the whole village to use!”

 

“ _Step back from him_ ,” Lagertha repeats, her voice low and dangerous.

 

“And if I d--” The man doesn't get a chance to finish his thought, when Lagertha buries her ax in his back. The body drops to the floor, the man's knife clattering down beside him, useless.

 

Athelstan finds he cannot move. His legs feel like they'll give out right beneath him, and he clings to the wall to keep himself steady. He wants to step over the corpse on the floor, and keeps telling his legs, 'Go.' They ignore him and keep him frozen in place.

 

“Athelstan,” Lagertha whispers. “Athelstan, it's alright. They're dead. Come here.”

 

It takes a few moments for Athelstan to find his words. “I... don't think I can.”  


Lagertha steps over the corpse and joins Athelstan in the corner. She curls her arm around him, pulling him against her side. “Come. We'll dispose of them.”

 

“Lagertha,” Athelstan breathes, his mouth bone-dry.

 

“Shh, priest,” she murmurs, guiding him out from the corner. She sits him down on his sleeping pallet, which is when Athelstan gets a look at both the bodies littering the floor. The hilt of the knife he'd wielded was sticking out of a body.

 

“Did I...?” Athelstan whispers, shock obvious on his face.

 

“You did. Gave me time to split his skull,” Lagertha replies. She sits down beside Athelstan. “You protect me, as I protect you.”

 

“He... he wanted to--”

 

“To take,” Lagertha finishes for him. “To take what is _not_ given freely.” There's a fierceness in her voice, a protective note. “But I would never let such harm befall you, priest.”

 

When Athelstan can only nod, a little sluggish from the adrenaline wearing off, Lagertha smiles faintly. She guides Athelstan's head down against her shoulder, as if he is one of her children, seeking comfort after a nightmare. Lagertha kisses his forehead and cards her fingers through his curls gently. “Sleep, priest,” she says softly. Her eyes slip closed and she can think of only Gyda.


End file.
